Hi. So true..: Hi. So true. Have you heard the term 'shrinkflation'? It's the sneaky way consumers get screwed. The price of the product will remain the same, but you're getting less for the same money. What do you get in those small 50 cent bag of chips? It's half empty before you open it! Thanks for your comment.
This poem, which is: This poem, which is significantly different than your several funereal poems, may very well be the most important poem that you have posted here at postpoems. You have offered a great testimony to one of the chief principles of the Christian Faith. You are absolutely correct that Christians are not to seek revenge; as the Apostle Paul tells us in Romans 12:19.
You also reminded me, in this poem, that only a Christian has the right to instruct, and question or discuss the behavior of another Christian. As Proverbs 27:17 (which I read in the LXX translation of the Orthodox Church) Iron sharpens iron; in other words, like addresses and assists like when it comes to spiritual matters. And your faith is quite evident in this poem, and this poem calls all of its readers who believe to greater vigilance upon their own behavior.
I applaud you for posting this. I, for one, hope you will post more Christian testimony poems.
I have not been able to: I have not been able to comment much on your work, lately, but I still applaud your work in this particular form, and the way you put so much into such a small space---like Chopin's Nocturnes and Preludes.
Wow, I couldn't pass this up: Wow, I couldn't pass this up and I'm glad I never do. What is there to say other than you're flippin' BRILLIANT man?! and you know it's true
Several NDE's have confirmed: Several NDE's have confirmed that we do meet our beloved animal companions on the other side. I was very touched by your personal experiences with precious souls in animal bodies.
You're never, ever verbose!
"Truth screaming to be: "Truth screaming to be seen"
A blistering and cutting commentary on the train wreck of our division. Each line is a hammer pounding against the darkness. In your resolve and eloquent power, I saw some light in the cracks.
Amazing lyrics. My respect!
I was five months old when I: I was five months old when I was adopted in 1958. Later, in 1995, I inquired into my adoption file, as was my right, and found out that my birth mother had been a high school girl and my birth father was a young man of the same age of whom her parents did not aoprove. Her father, my maternal birth grandfather, had a PhD in Chemistry, was director of research for a major American corporation, was an elected elder in the Presbyterian Church and, like I once was, a thirty-second degree Freemason. He was also, according to the records clerk who pulled my file, apparently a first-class bastard, as he bribed the family court judge who presided over my adoption (and told my birth mother that were wishes carried no weight with the court); he also bribed the adoption agency attorney and several of the medical staff who delivered me. This was discovered in 1995 because the official file also contained, probably by error, ledger pages that the judge had kept---apparently the judge arranged the bribes and made the payments on my birth-grandfather's behalf, and then kept a record of it which ended up accidentally included in the file, The judge also knew the people who adopted me through their involvement in the political party to which they all belonged, and he had told them that he was doing them a favor by rushing the adoption through and cutting corners (which was what my birth-grandfather had paid him to do anyhow). By another odd coincidence, both my adopted mother and my first-wife's father were employed by the corporate division over which my birth-grandfather presided, although none of them were acquainted with each other. My birth father "went bad" after my birth mother's father forcibly broke them up. He later married, moved to Richmond Indiana, where---during the summer of my seventeenth year---he came home early from a business tript, caught his wife in bed with the next door neighbor, and pulled a gun from under his jacket and blew her brains out. He then called the police om himself and surrendered to them, and did a ten year stretch for manslaughter. Here is the final irony: in the cemetery where my adopted parents are buried, they are located less than a bundred yars from the graves of my birth mother's parents---the scheming corporate exec and his alcoholic wife. How's that for a tale? Truth is always stranger than fiction.
You're welcome, and the: You're welcome, and the length of your response would never be a reason for me to delete (not that I delete comments, anyway, but I appreciate such sharing).
The story of your father's final brush with death during the war, and the especially world-altering events it was connected to really brings home the truth that our existences are woven by such fine, tender threads. There's that saying "we won't pass this way again", and - as far as I can imagine - even if we were all given a chance to do it over again, I don't think there's any chance it'd end up remotely the same. The very stories of our lives are against all odds. In that, we can find not just hope, but confident belief, in perserverance.
If you don't mind me asking, around how old were you when you were adopted?
Thank you for your kind: Thank you for your kind reply, and for your kind words about Zoey's decline. My parents had a beloved cocker spaniel who, when she passed, was cremated, with her ashes placed in a box which bore her picture and a name place. My mother outlived my father; so when she passed, that small box was placed in the casket with her, at her feet where Penny 2 used to like to stretch out. We have the same plans for Zoey. We do not look upon this with morbidity, but with a sense of comfort.
I think I once told you about the late actor, Peter Cushing's idea of Heaven, and I believe in what he believed, so I fully expect Zoey to be there waiting for us, along with Peppy, Buffy, Penny 1, and the most mischevious Monica. There are certain Scriptures in both Testaments that imply that the whole Creation will be restored rather than replaced. (Many early Christians believed that Jesus and his stepfather were repair carpenters, rather than furniture makers, and that they repaired broken implements whenever possible, rather than making replacements. His parables never mention a workshop or the ordinary tools we associate with that work, but a lot about plows, yokes, and other farming activities. I think that, too, is an indicator that He will repair rather than replace the broken Creation.)
I am sorry for being too verbose in this reply.
And thank you for telling me: And thank you for telling me about your experience. I remember hearing from my grandmother that when my father, who was basically a naive farmboy, enlisted in the Marines, his personality radically changed during his experience of boot camp. Apparently, after graduating from basic training, and before being deployed to the battleship Nevada, he had a few days leave at home and, although he looked like her son and had the name of her son, she did not recognize much of her son's personality. Of corse, I only ever knew the post-war personality.
(A bit of trivia: during a reunion of his unit in 1986, my father and his surviving friends were given some information by the former captain of the battleship . . . that they had been selected to be the first unit to invade the Japanese main island, and that their death certificates had already been filled out by the captain a couple of weeks in advance, because the planners in Washington had estimated that thousands of soldiers in the first invasive force would die on the beaches just to establish a foothold. However, three days before the invasion was due to begin, the battleship received orders to turn fully about and head away from Japan at the fastest possible speed. My father could remember feeling the ship turn radically, and then the engines running so hard that the body of the battleship actually shook. President Truman had decided to deploy the atomic bombs, and the designers had badly overestimated the blast radius, which they believed would reach the main seas around Japan. But at least he did not die in the invasion, as had been expected, and then thirteen years after the war . . . he adopted me!) If this has been too verbose, feel free to delete it.
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